Expressed Emotions
by BenedictCumberfans
Summary: Much to his distaste, Sherlock does in fact have emotions that will overpower his self-control from time to time.


"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock"

Sherlock tutted at his brother's unfavorable words. He was stood in the archway looking out of the window onto a stormy Baker Street. He followed a raindrop as it drizzled down the windowpane, imitating his current mood. Twisting his neck slightly towards his elder brother, but not stretching his gaze to meet, he replied with a monotone voice. "Repeating yourself is a sign of old age, Mycroft"

Mycroft chuckled darkly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yes brother dear, but you seem to dismiss my words in a heartbeat. You've started to care about miniscule commodities"

Sherlock could feel his blood boiling and it took less than a second for him to snap. "Mummy was not a…" he stopped short, heaving in short, angry breaths. There was no point trying to express something his Brother would soon shoot down.

Mycroft's knowing stare held onto the back of his brother's head, watching as he eagerly tried to get his mind back under his intellectual control.

Sherlock didn't feel. Mycroft didn't feel. The Holmes brothers were trained not to feel!

Emotions originate from the mind, the majority of humans cannot control their feelings, they were born to feel pain, fear, happiness, _love_. But, the Holmes brothers were practically professionals when it came to controlling exactly what their minds thought about. To train the brain into not feeling emotions. Train it to care solely about work and getting the job done.

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath holding it for a short moment, before releasing it slowly his eyes automatically sliding shut due to a throbbing headache. His mothers face crept into his vision, her soft smile gazing down at him. He could feel his respiratory rate increase again, his heart swelling with pain… _No!_ Sherlock snapped his eyes open with an inaudible gasp; he shook his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut to dismiss the image he'd just endured.

He spun around sharply stepping into Mycroft's personal space "I don't feel…" he spat through gritted teeth. "You taught me not to feel emotions, Mycroft. You beat that into my brain; tortured it into my head, feeling is not an advantage. It drags you down, holds you back… Stops you from doing what's…reasonable. It is primarily an embarrassment."

Mycroft blinked in reply a small smirk evident on his face. "That's right brother mine. And don't fail to remember it" he prodded his finger into Sherlock's chest before turning and making his way towards the exit "Now come on, straighten your tie. We're going to be late"

Sherlock scoffed at his brother, pulling a disgusted face in his direction. However, he turned towards the mirror to fix his tie and ran his fingers through his locks, straightening any loose curls.

"Lets get this over with," he whispered before shouting down the hallway "John, are you ready? We're leaving!"

A smart and clean-shaven John emerged from the hallway pulling on a dark, black suit blazer over his pristine white shirt. "Sherlock…" he placed his hand over his best friends shoulder stopping him in his path. "Are you okay?" his voice was sorrowful and caring.

"I'm quite alright, John" Sherlock brushed Johns hand from his shoulder, not daring to look him in the eyes, John could always seem to unfortunately tell when he was lying. He continued to make his way down the stairs, following Mycroft out onto Baker Street and into the awaiting dark, sleek car with John slipping in behind, following right on his heels.

Sherlock's fingers were subconsciously stroking his tie, straightening the material beneath his fingers. The doors at the back of the room clicked wide open with a loud bang and the slightly eerie church organ began playing a sad but melodic tune as the pallbearers slowly made their way down the isle of the elegant and utterly beautiful church. Everyone stood and a slow Mexican wave of head movements, tilted towards the oak coffin as it made its way past each row of mourning family and friends, including John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. As Sherlock's head instinctively turned to follow the coffin, a sharp slap shoved him back into reality and back into following the Holmes' brothers rule of _not caring_. Mycroft pulled his hand away, shooting Sherlock a commanding scowl, raising one of his eyebrows. Sherlock swallowed hard, shrugging his heavy, distressed shoulders and shooting what he hoped was a strong grimace back at his older brother, anticipating that Mycroft wouldn't see through his false apathetic barrier. He seemed to be fooled thought, as he nodded his head briefly before turning it, like a robot back to the front of the church.

"Please be seated" the priests soft voice flowed around the church, bouncing off the walls and entering everyone's ears with a small reverb echo.

Sherlock shut his eyes for a brief moment, preparing himself for what was about to come and the overburden of emotions that he knew he was likely about to endure but would have to cleverly disguise by keeping up his defense barriers.

"We are gathered here today, to say farewell to Violet Holmes, a beloved Mother…" Sherlock winced his eyes squeezing shut in torture. "Wife, sister and dearly loved by all who knew her. We are opening our hearts to commit her into the hands of God" Sherlock kept his eyes tightly shut, swallowing audibly through the thick lump in his throat, his hands involuntarily began to shake, his breathing harsh and heaving. This was the moment where Sherlock forced his brain to relocate into his mind palace, before his brother or anyone else enduring the service could notice his struggle. That would be a great embarrassment for his family name. He focused on his most recent case, shoveling through many different files in his brain trying to find an accurate lead towards the murderer.

It was no use, he couldn't concentrate on staying within his mind palace and that quite frankly worried him. He'd never been faced with a problem like this. Sherlock could decide when and for how long he would stay, searching in his mind for answers to whatever he desired. But now, he just couldn't focus. He groaned loudly forgetting for a short moment where he was and why he was there. His eyes snapped open as the priest ended the service and the organ began playing the same opening tune. Sherlock cocked his head slightly listening to the sniffles of his distraught family and family friends and thanking god that he'd made it through without so much as a tear.

He looked to the front of the church and saw his mothers face on a large banner next to her coffin, her soft voice flowed through his mind, making his head feel light and fuzzy "My dear Sherlock" she whispered "I will always love you" He shook his head harshly, dropping his gaze to his knees, his fingers clenching tight around his thighs. He felt his chest drastically tighten; the lump in his throat growing, closing his airways, causing his breaths to become short and gasping. This all followed with a stinging pinch behind his eyes. Much to his disgrace he knew that if he didn't leave the venue, he was soon to make a grand fool of himself in front of the entire filled church. His emotions were fast crashing through the barrier he'd built. Giving one last painful look towards his mother's coffin, he reluctantly rose to his feet, earning a questioning and slightly panicked expression from his unsullied brother, Mycroft grabbed his arm once again, attempting to pull his younger brother back down into his seat, worried that Sherlock may embarrass him. Sherlock, however, keeping his slowly pooling orbs attached to the floor, fiercely shook his arm, desperately trying to shake off his brothers demanding grip so he could leave as quickly as possible. Once he'd achieved this with a disgruntled growl from Mycroft, Sherlock made a fast beeline for the exit, keeping his head down and not making eye contact with anyone's sorrowful gaze.

Once outside he continued his fast walk, until he knew he'd have a short amount of time to himself before Mycroft would find him. He sucked in a sharp breath, dropping his head back and focusing his eyes on the grey, dark clouds looming in the sky, matching the undesired emotions that were piled onto him. His alone time ended all too soon though as a soft, worried hand landed on his shoulder. "Sherlock…" the voice that Sherlock knew all too well sighed.

"John…" he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the sky. Before replying to Johns unasked question "I'm fine… really."

John stepped closer, so he was stood beside his best friend, he too diverted his gaze up to the sky. "It's okay to cry Sherlock. You're mothers just…well, yeah" he trailed off, feeling stupid and apologetic for bringing up the death once again.

Sherlock scoffed loudly in reply "I'm not urged to cry, John... I don't even remember the last time I wept…" He thought about it for a moment, trying to think back to his childhood, but he couldn't for the life of him remember when he last shed a tear.

John silently nodded, a false half smile settled across his features. Sherlock exhaled a loud sighed that seemed to last forever, it seemed as if he thought he could just breathe all of his emotions out.

"Sherlock!" came a much harsher tone, making Sherlock's growing headache suddenly increase. "What the hell was that? You made a total fool of yourself in front of everyone!"

"Oh, do shut up Mycroft" he rolled his eyes "I don't care for your vexation at this time"

"Listen to me" Mycroft jabbed him in the chest "and listen carefully Sherlock. Mummy was a wonderful, independent woman. When you were young she hated to see you unhappy, she despised sadness…" the mere re-mention of his mother was all it took to tip his emotions over the edge, his eyes filled with distraught tears, and it was clearly obvious by Mycroft's almost inaudible tut that he had noticed.

Sherlock deeply loathed himself right now for showing weakness.

"Mummy would hate you right now, brother dear" Something snapped in Mycroft, his tone of voice had uncannily softened much to his brother's surprise.

Sherlock nodded in reply, not trusting himself to speak as he sucked in a sharp and shaky breath, his lip quivered fiercely trying to hold back a desperate sob. John stepped back to give them some space, but kept an eagle eye on his best friend. He had never seen Sherlock in such a state before and so he didn't trust the Holmes brothers to be alone together in the one snap state that Sherlock was currently in. Mycroft wasn't the most caring human to be around; in fact he was rather intimidating when it came to any sign of emotions.

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed deeply as he tried to blink away the tears before they came anywhere near to falling. Mycroft much to his distaste watched his brother openly struggle with the loss of their mother. By watching this he too felt his long lost emotions slowly start to crawl back up his spine, sending an unpleasant shiver rippling through his body. It seemed that Mycroft's only weakness that would actually stoop low enough to fall back into a pit of emotions was deeply and utterly his little brother. Watching his baby brother in a vulnerable state made his mind grow dark and stormy. "hey…" he whispered, stepping to the left slightly to fall right into Sherlock's eye line. Sherlock however was too proud to allow his brother to look into his tear filled orbs, so he quickly threw his gaze to the wet and muddy grass.

"Look at me…"

Sherlock stubbornly kept his eyes fixed on the ground, not trusting himself to move even an inch as he felt that at any moment his body may betray him and he may not be able to withstand his own weight which would humiliatingly send him crumpling to the thickly muddy ground.

Sherlock's stubborn attitude took Mycroft back to when they were small; it reminded him of the innocent 5-year-old boy that used to ask thousands of questions that no normal child would ask. _"What happens if you mix hydrogen and oxygen?"_ Mycroft had often permitted Sherlock to do his chemistry homework for him. Of course this was no issue to a curious and insanely intelligent child who had deeply enjoyed sitting for hours on end creating mini experiments with household items and chemicals.

It occurred to Mycroft that Sherlock rarely showed emotion even as a young boy. They had both been brought up with the conception that crying was a huge weakness and that they should prevent themselves from showing it. Until now Mycroft had never seen an issue with it, but upon watching his brother's struggle, he realized that maybe it is beneficial to release emotions from time to time. Maybe it's not so much a weakness, but bravery. Bravery to show a more vulnerable side of yourself.

"Little brother…" Mycroft whispered, suddenly noticing that Sherlock was never any different than the innocent, stubborn little boy that he used to be. He came to the realization that Sherlock has always been and always will be his baby brother, and no matter how old he gets, Mycroft will always be overly worried and care for the innocuous little child that he will always see in Sherlock. "Come here…" he walked towards Sherlock with his arms open. Once he got close enough to touch him, he wrapped his arms around his little brothers shoulders, although this was later slightly regretted as he got a harsh response, one that he was not expecting.

"NO!" Sherlock's wavering voice yelled, harshly pushing his brother away. He let a small whimper slip from his throat before whisperingly begging, "Don't…please".

Mycroft's heart sunk as he watched a single tear spill over and slip down Sherlock's cheek. He suddenly came to realize that the simple gesture of human contact is what would push Sherlock over the edge; make him completely vulnerable and exposed to the world of emotion. His heart clenched in his chest, watching his brother loosing the fight to control his overpowering distraught was much more heartbreaking to watch then he could have ever imagined.

"Stop, Sherlock" Mycroft attempted to take a step closer again. This time Sherlock didn't resist or push him away. "You can stop fighting" Mycroft swallowed audibly "Stop trying to control it, it's not getting you anywhere… This is my fault"

Another tear tipped down his cheek, sliding over his sharp cheekbones and down to his chin. Finally, Sherlock lifted his gaze to meet his brothers, not caring about how red, watery and puffy his eyes may look. "Emotions have always been a no go for us Sherlock. But we've always felt them, we've managed to push them aside with the focus of our work. I know mummy and daddy saw it as a weakness, but I think it's okay to show it occasionally" he raised his eyebrows at the sniffling man "Only occasionally though okay? Don't go all hormonal teenage girl on me!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, suppressing a small smile. "As much as I despise having to admit this… we are only human. Having said that, we're intellectually smarter and obtained with the great powers of deduction, which the average human does not possess" he smirked "but we are still human, we're destined to feel no matter how much we try to ignore it".

Sherlock gawped at his brother, a small watery smile spreading on his cupids bow lips. Have you taken something?" he sniffled his hands reaching up to rub over his face, brushing the stained tear streaks away "What the hell am I supposed to say to that?"

"Don't say anything" Mycroft shrugged "I'm not expecting you to say anything…" he trailed off his face twisting into one of distress "Just come here…" he motioned with his finger before opening his arms for his baby brother to step into them. Sherlock stared at his open arms with a disgusted look. He struggled to remember the last time he and his brother had ever had any form of physical contact, let alone a welcoming embrace.

This odd but appreciative gesture toward Sherlock made his heart thump unpleasantly in his chest, he could feel his emotions strongly brewing once again, but he wasn't sure he could curb the release this time. His vision started swimming as his eyes pooled, the tears threatening to spill over and dribble down his flushed cheeks. His breathing once again sped up and he shamefully began gasping for his breath, his chest heaving with each inhale and exhale of air. His hands instinctively tugged at his curly locks, pulling at the roots in distress.

Mycroft winced painfully as the tears finally spilled over Sherlock's innocent, childlike eyes, a shattered sob flying from his quivering lips. The older Holmes brother could too feel his heart tightening in pain, his breath shortening briefly.

Sherlock's shoulders sagged and his head slumped to face the floor once again. He had failed to keep his composure, his emotions were out in the open and he felt truly vulnerable. He had let himself go. He was no longer trying to conceal his tears and the sobs that racked his body. He had lost all of the energy to control, leaving him weak and frail. His physical being giving the impression that it may collapse to the floor in a heap at any minute.

Mycroft took this as his opportunity to step forward "Oh, Sherlock…" he trailed off placing a hand on his shoulder "I'm sorry" he shakily wrapped his arms around his baby brother pulling his larger, lean frame into his own chest. He felt Sherlock's body stiffen in protest, but Mycroft ignored this and just pulled him closer, his hand rubbing his back softly. "It's okay…I'm sorry for what I said before. Mummy wouldn't hate you; she's probably smiling up there, watching you lose control. She never thought you were capable of emotions after we'd all regrettably sucked them out of you. I'm sure she'd be refreshed to see you in this state. I'm very sure she'd prefer to see you cheerful, but any kind of emotion is saluted for now"

Sherlock's physique suddenly relaxed at his elder brothers words, and it was Mycroft's turn to freeze up as cold, shaking hands were placed on his back. Sherlock had imitated his brother's actions and had accepted the embrace. His sobs were still loudly audible, his body shaking and heaving in distress, causing Mycroft to squeeze him closer as he whispered incoherent soothing words into his ear, and for once in his life Mycroft was surprisingly not at all embarrassed of his younger brothers actions.

"You know I care for you, Sherlock? Much to your distaste, I'll always worry about you!"

Sherlock sniffled, nodding slightly before relaxing further into his elder brother. He rested his cheek onto his brother's shoulder and actually allowed himself to enjoy this unfamiliar embrace. "I know"


End file.
